


Tortall One Shots

by Wild_Roses



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Friendship, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wild_Roses/pseuds/Wild_Roses
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles about my favourite literary characters. Likely to be updated very sporadically.





	1. No Friends to Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events in Carthak, Numair has to make amends with Daine.

Numair squinted into the sunlight to keep the seagull in sight. She’d been circling above the ship for hours, seemingly content to feel the air beneath her wings. It was nearly time for supper, though, and he was fairly certain her stomach would soon overrule her pride. As her direction turned back towards the ship, Numair walked over to stand on the stretch of deck she’d aim for. She landed on the ship rail without sparing him a second glance, squawking irritably in the direction of the door she sought access to.

Gritting his teeth, Numair turned to open the door of the cramped closet that Daine had taken to shifting back into human form in. She hopped her way down to the deck and into the room, Numair closing the door gently behind her. He positioned himself firmly in front of the door, arms crossed.

A moment later, back in her own form and clothes, Daine threw the door open with a glare. Numair remained steadfast. She couldn’t frighten him. Not more than a little, anyways.

“Master Salmalin,” she gritted out, “kindly remove yourself from my path or I will be forced to transform myself into a ram and knock you out of my way. Then I will turn back to myself and make my way to my room bare as the day I was born.” After a beat, Daine added, “See if I care.”

The set of her jaw told him she was determined. With a constrained sigh, he turned slightly to allow her to pass.

It hadn’t taken more than a day after the disaster in Carthak for Daine’s relief to wear off and her anger to take the forefront. She’d been steadfastly refusing to so much as make eye contact with him since. Worse still, she was far from the only delegate on board who was upset. After the ship had returned to Carthak to pick Numair and Daine up, Alanna had seized him in a fierce hug before shoving him backwards and yelling until she was hoarse. She’d remain short with him since. Duke Gareth, more diplomatic than most, had voiced his displeasure on being kept out of the loop, but had, for the most part, moved on after his perceived duty of reprimanding the mage was complete. Gary the Younger showed some sympathy, observing astutely the way Numair’s shoulders lagged with each rebuff from the women on board. Harailt was another thing altogether, he was so astounded by Nuamair’s simulacrum that he chose to firmly ignore everyone else’s displeasure with the man in favour of asking a nearly incessant stream of questions. Last night at dinner, when Harailt, eyes wide with wonder had murmured “What a trick,” to himself Daine had slammed down her cup and stormed out onto the deck, not even bothering to disrobe before transforming into a bird and taking flight.

It had been a long four days and there were many yet before they would reach Port Caynn. The destination itself disgruntled Alanna, who’d argued for a return to Port Legann and then a trip by a faster Peregrine ship to Caynn, during which they would have been placed in a mage induced sleep and missed several days of sea sickness, to which the knight was so prone.

Feeling rather defeated, Numair slumped off to his cabin. He would just have to keep trying. He passed Kitten as he ducked his way along the narrow hallway below decks. The dragon looked up at him with empathy and reached to hold his hand for a moment. Then she shook her head and moved along to make her way above deck. Kitten, Numair supposed, hadn’t been _too_ displeased with him at any point. She’d grumbled a little at him initially, but for those first few days of reunion, she’d refused to leave his side, remaining snuggled to him throughout each night. Numair had whispered his apologies to Kitten that first night. She’d nuzzled her muzzle against his cheek and whistled soothingly. Kitten had been so pointed in glancing at Daine while she shared her affections with Numair during the last, tense days that Daine was made furious.

As the sun began to drop down to the horizon the next day, Numair found Daine leaning over the prow of the ship, laughing gently as she engaged with the dolphins racing alongside them. Numair realized he had tried nearly every tact but one to get Daine to talk to him. He’d pleaded, both verbally and with his sad eyes. He’d given her a few days space to cool off. He’d even gotten angry right back at her once. Nothing had shifted in the steadfast ignoring of her mentor. When she absolutely had to communicate with him she would, but her words always carried more frost with them than midwinter’s night.

So he approached her as she smiled into the setting sun and said softly, “Ozorne once told me he didn’t have so many friends that he could afford to insult them.” With a dark chuckle he added, “Then, of course, he became emperor and determined he had no need whatsoever for friends… but anyways, Daine, my point is that I have a fair amount more friends than I had back then but you are the one I fear to lose most. I hope you know that.”

Daine had kept her back to Numair throughout her little speech. He’d noticed her muscles tense and a dolphin starboard to him had chittered angrily. Letting out a soft breath, he turned and headed down to his cabin. 

It was a few hours later that a tight knock sounded on his door. Numair had to stoop a little to stand in his cabin and open the door. Daine stood there, grey eyes wide with a question. Numair ducked to the side, allowing her entry. Closing the door behind her, Daine slid to sit against it, knees tucked up. Numair settled himself on the floor across from her, leaning his back against the bed. 

“Tell me more about your friendship with Ozorne,” she demanded.

So he did. He told her far more than he had ever told any of his Tortallan friends. Hell, he ended up telling her more than even Varice knew, really. It all just spilled out, feeling far more cathartic than Numair ever would have imagined. Daine’s eyes softened throughout the telling.

“Numair,” she blurted out before dropping her eyes down and picking at the hem of her tunic. It took several long minutes, through which Numair waited patiently, before she spoke again. “I know you said you’ve helped protect the core of, of _me_ from getting lost in my magic. I know that. But I was… I was moments away from losing myself forever. From choosing to remain a hyena forever. From choosing to have physical strength and control rather than this be this weak, vulnerable, soft _human_. All because you were dead.”

Numair’s face tightened. There was nothing he could say to that.

“And then,” Daine continued, voice cracking, “to find out it was all this elaborate plot. This, _this joke_ , almost, to pull one over on your old rival. That I almost lost myself entirely. Because… because you didn’t tell me the truth.” Finally looking up at him once more, tears flowing freely Daine said, “To me you were dead.” 

At this, Numair scrambled across the cabin floor to scoop his student up into his arms. She sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said passionately.

When Daine had calmed a little, pulling herself away and swiping at her tears, Numair spoke again. “I understand, Daine. I… did it all to try and protect you from him. I… I knew he wanted you. And I couldn’t bear it for that to happen. Maybe it was selfish of me.”

Daine rolled her eyes. “I know you wouldn’t change a single cursed thing you did over there. That’s not what I wanted anyhow. I just… wanted you to know, to really _know_ how awful it was for me.”

With a slight wry smile, Numair shifted to rest against the door as well, and tucked Daine beneath his arm. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have changed anything. And I know magelet; I am sorry for it. Can we be friend again?”

She sniffled, “Yes, please. I don’t like being so angry. The dolphins told me I was more morose than a whale.”

Numair chuckled softly. “What do you think my chances are with Alanna?" 

Daine hummed thoughtfully. “Not a chance until we are on dry land again.”

“Well,” Numair replied, helping Daine to her feet. “I missed you. Let’s go get some tea and you can tell the dolphins all the reasons you are better than those stodgy whales.”


	2. Friends in Low Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly back in Corus after their hunt, Beka and Farmer run into Rosto the Piper.

I squeezed my eyes tight for a moment. Mayhap, if I made it seem that I hadn’t seen him, he would give up and go away. His villainous lips pressed on to my cheek, proving my hopes wrong.

“Beka, darling,” he drawled. “I hear you’ve been on quite the adventure. I can’t wait to hear every wicked detail.”

I opened my eyes to glare at him, avoiding, for the moment, Farmer and the look I feared to see on his face. “The only wickedness is that from you Rosto.”

“Ah, c’mon Beka. Even given you’ve been off saving the country again, I know you won’t forsake old friends. If you were the type you would’ve done it after Port Caynn.” 

A smile crept across my face. Despite myself, I would always be fond of Rosto the Piper. Noticing that Farmer had angled his large frame to be more prominent next to me, I steeled myself and looked up at him. His turquoise eyes were nearly as chilly as they’d been towards those conspiring mages and he seemed to be radiating power. I slipped my hand into his and gave a reassuring squeeze. Last thing we needed was a fight between these two in the center of a lower city street during the midday bustle. I realized others were staring now as well. It was naught to stare at, myself and Rosto as companions. But Farmer, he drew the eye for more than just his being a stranger.

“Farmer,” I said striving for calm, “this is Rosto the Piper. Back when I was just a puppy he, Aniki and Cora moved into the building I rent a room in. They’ve since moved out, but we’ve remained friends.”

Trickster that he was, Rosto bowed slightly eyes twinkling and said, “Despite our many philosophical differences, isn’t that right Beka?”

“A good dog has friends amongst all people,” I replied carefully. Then I added, “Rosto, Aniki and Cora were very valuable birdies, partners, even, in solving a string of murders through the lower city when I was still a pup.”

Farmer hummed thoughtfully, eyes less chilly as he gazed down at me. “The case that gave you the name ‘terrier’, back before you had Achoo, no?”

“Yes,” I beamed. Farmer and I had been able to take much of the ride back to Corus to learn each other’s histories more. Somehow, during the hunt, we’d managed to fall in love before ever having time to do so. Now, standing in the streets of Corus, feeling weary to my bones and wanting nothing more than a bath, and perhaps an evening visit to some of the neglected Corus spinners, I sighed heavily.

“Not that it hasn’t been delightful to see you, Rosto, but I’m for home. Just got back, you see. Farmer was our mage on the hunt, he’s far more to credit for our success than I am. Anyways, we are both tired and must take our leave.”

Rosto scooped up my free hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“Wait,” Farmer said slowly. I winced, seeing that his assessing gaze flickered between Rosto’s hand and his scarred visage. Rosto tipped his head to the side in nonchalant acknowledgement. “You are the Rogue, then?” 

“Aye.”

My man turned to me, eyes widened and mouth ajar. “Beka, love, you are intimate friends with the King of the Rogue?”

I felt my cheeks flush with colour, “Not _intimate_ Farmer. Just friends, yes.” 

Rosto looked purely delighted as Farmer burst into great, whooping laughter. When he’d finally caught his breath, tears in his eyes he looked at me and said merrily, “Gods above Beka, you really are something. Of course, you’d be friends with the King of the Rogues.” 

A sharp whistle pulled Rosto’s attention away across the street. He turned back to us and held his hand out for Farmer to clasp. “It was a delight to meet you, Master Farmer. You seem a good shot better than Beka’s last man, I hope we can be friends.” 

“Certainly,” Farmer exclaimed, far too pleased.

We stood together and watched Rosto, with his luminous white hair, head down the dusty street. Farmer, still chuckling, bent to kiss me.

“You looby,” I grumbled.

Wrapping his arm around my shoulders and allowing me to guide him to my home, Farmer ignored the insult. “I look forward to a lifetime of you surprising me Beka. When do I get to meet Aniki and Cora?” 


End file.
